


Maybe

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, M/M, possible fangirl japanese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-03
Updated: 2001-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it could have been different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Painfully old fic, reposted for the sake of archiving it. Original author notes below; some bits may be redacted for the sake of the author's dignity.
> 
> \---
> 
> Shounen ai, angst, angst, angst, angst, and more angst. NO HAPPY ENDINGS HERE!

For a moment, just a moment, I thought that I had seen you this afternoon, half-hidden in the shade of the awning of a store. Then I blinked and realized that it was a trick of the light.

I miss you.

Isn't it funny? The way you and I argued all the time, always shouting and casting bitter words back and forth, you'd have thought I'd be glad to be rid of you. Nothing could have survived the way our tempers collided and reacted. Sure, it was fun with you, and sometimes so hot that I'm surprised we didn't burst into flames. Maybe, if it had lasted, we would have. Who can say? We never even managed to pin a name to our... togetherness.

You were always waiting for the savior who never came, and I was always following the mission, because I couldn't follow my own heart. What we wanted from each other was something neither of us had. Falling apart was probably inevitable.

There's always that edge of doubt, the curiosity about how it could have been different. I see the alternative sometimes, in the laughing young couples who walk by me, arm in arm, the lines of hips pressed together, heads bent close together. At times like those, I can remember the scent of your skin too clearly, and I feel such a loss to know you're gone that I'm left breathless and panting in its wake.

I remember our last morning; it was so tranquil that my mind dissociates it from all my other memories of us and keeps it locked away under glass, resting on a velvet cushion, taken out on special occasions only so that nothing may damage it. We woke early, with the sun as it painted the walls in tones of grey that shaded gradually to rose. We were tangled in each other, your leg thrown over mine, my arm draped across your chest, the sheets binding our bodies together, and my hand laced with yours. It's funny, but that's what I remember most clearly: the way our hands fit together, palm to palm, each sized perfectly for the other.

I suppose it fits our style that everything ended in public, in a blaze of what some might call glory. That the way it happened was a peculiar form of ironic justice. That you probably would have chosen to end it that way, given the chance to do it again.

I honestly believe you never even realized what you were doing, that you never knew what was going to happen when you pushed me down. And I force myself to believe that you didn't feel anything at all, that it was over too quickly for any pain to register. Sometimes these two theories are all that keep me sane. Sometimes they take me to the edge of sanity and dangle me over the precipice. I never really know.

Probably we would have fallen apart anyway. Our relationship was too crazy to really last. Sooner or later, I would have walked, or you would have walked, and that would have been that.

But I'll never really know that. Not for sure. I'm not sure if that is my greatest regret... or if it's that I didn't tell you what ran through my mind that final morning as you opened your eyes and smiled at me in the dawn-light.

Maybe it would have made a difference had I told you I loved you.


End file.
